


Before I'm Dragged Down

by meupclose



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Demons & Deals, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Original Character - Freeform, Secrets, Victors pov, brave yuri, depressed victor, house fire, in first chapter is victor, selling ones soul, yuri will save him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9105445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meupclose/pseuds/meupclose
Summary: But it took a few days for the demon to laugh at him crying in bed, petting his hair while he snuggled Makkachin."You wasted your last year," he was teased, the cold from their touch freezing the tracks of dampness to his cheeks."Yuri isn't a waste; he could beat me on the ice if he believed in himself," Victor defended quickly. It was easy to speak about skating instead of the budding crush that was turning into a full blown want for Yuri to see him beyond that title."The only reason I am allowing this is because of the cruelty in your selfishness," the words were sharp frozen icicles into his back. Was he? "I hope he falls in love with you. I can't wait actually for me to take you away from him."





	1. A Chill that Doesn't Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos couldn't be rationalized. It was impossible to make a decision without instincts roaring forward to consume every single thought. Victor had made a mistake then. Running to the door, he opened it. The rush of oxygen from the window swept under his feet to greedily feed the fire. What had been chilled clean winter air turned to dragons breath blasting the room in blistering heat and a mighty explosion.
> 
> He had landed under the window in a broken heap. Fingers stretched up towards the sky he could just see over the lip of the windowsill. The cold teased a belief it would hold back the burns on his skin and the sharp stench of charred flesh and hair would be replaced with snow.
> 
> "I could save you," came a voice, the demon crouched on the window as if it was its closest friend. Victor had looked up through a hazy expression, feeling between worlds already. Unable to see clearly to put a face to the voice.
> 
> "Please,"

Icy fingertips traced along his cheek, up towards the gentle twitch of his brow, lingering down to flutter close pale lashes. Victor remained still as the most beautiful statue on the ice, long hair swept up over his shoulder. Braids filled between the soft tresses adding a messy style knotted into an elegant loop near the base of his neck. Shivering lips parted in a necessary entry of a deeper breath to quell disgust and recenter his control. Heart hammering, he felt the music flowing through the empty space. Imagining the sound of blades scraping along the ice to match the harmony, each press of the piano keys painting a story beautifully behind closed eyes. How he wanted to dance to this sad song and surprise everyone with how he really felt about it.

There was power in a surprise. Victor could only mark moments of his young life with accomplishments, those that held the most impact were because he destroyed expectation and replaced it with his own heart. A family didn't entirely exist to fill his time outside of skating. Friends were familiar presences that didn't require his constant attention, nor was he seeking romance or partners to establish a need to explore lust or love beyond the hard surface beneath his blades.

He had always assumed he'd have time for that later, but he knew deep down it was because he was used to being alone. So what was left but to take what he had and become the best? There were no obstacles. No distractions. No excuses. Only him and the ice.

The ice.

"Vitya," his eyes opened, the calm over his entire body shattered and recoiled, though his stance somehow remained still for him to see.

The man before him was far too beautiful, even in Russia where vanity could challenge everyone on a square block. With dark obsidian eyes that flashed an unworldly hue of blue in the right light. Victor had never been able to describe the long, silky silver hair that touched the ice as if it was teasing angelic over dammed. The hook of his nose was prominent against the sharp line of his jaw seemingly always clenched in tension. When he wasn't pleased with Victor his smile became too sharp, strained to stretch the tendons down his neck and across his shoulders until he seemed to ache within the vessel it was contained in.

Victor feared this creature. He feared the control he had over him. The lust for what was rightfully his own-- and yet so easily bartered away.

"Don't call me that," the teenager bravely interrupted, the music repeating at the end of its track. Once more filling the rink with its now sad melody. Resetting his feet. He began what he started before he was interrupted.

"You picked such a beautiful piece, sadness...but something else," the demon hummed, the sharp ebony of his jacket contrasting so much it hurt Victor's eyes to look at him against the white landscape. The corruption felt alone in the air made his skin ripple in goosebumps.

"Yet you are angry over being sad today?" It was a question often asked, as if the creature didn't understand or remember emotions. Why Victor felt certain things at all became inquiry, maybe to carve them out of him by the time he turned twenty-eight. What would it feel like to be hollow? Would the emptiness follow him to Hell?

Victor wondered if the demon remembered what it meant to feel loss or pain. What had been created in Hell must have been long lost to its sufferings, of course, maybe that was what it was doing to him now. Chipping him away. A little piece at a time. Those fingers were once more touching his face, had been before without his consent. Stirring a nasty recoil in his gut for freedom of this continued confinement. Near ghost, gray skin was wrapped in endless bandages, each of his fingers scratchy if he decided to run his knuckle over the others chilled skin. But right now it was just the tips of nails, harder than obsidian. Wanting to draw blood upon the beautiful snow flower Victor poised on the center ice. He towered over him and yet the teenagers bright crystalline gaze attempted never to tilt his chin upward to look at him. Instead, glancing with a step back if he could, refusing to offer more obedience than it already wanted from him.

"Is it because you know you are about to have everything you wanted and you don't believe it will come true?" The demon's curse of words floated through his ears forced Victor to swallow hard. He didn't want to believe it. It all seemed a trick, something of dreams that he would surely awake from. "The years will fly by... are you so sure you are prepared for eternal dedication to me when I see you reach the top?"

The words lured repressed memories to the front, the darkness of his gaze drawing him into them as if he was to never escape it. Death ached like withering cancer, feeling a sob already threaten to release out of his chest without control to stop it.

"Stop it--" Crushing sadness pulsed around his breaking heart-- remembering that night. Smoke seemed to congest his lungs though it was long gone from the space. Its icy grasp came as a violent touch under his chin-- gripping damp cheeks until they squished and forced his dilated hues back open to pitted black. Yet though he felt weak of body and mind right now, some strange comfort came from knowing he was about to live whatever life he could have. Even if it came with a price he hadn't known he would ever make.

"Do you forget the heat?" The demon whispered to make his point, the scratch of his nose so close to his ear he shivered. The heat. How the alarms sounded in begging for him to get out of his place. But the hallway had been easily consumed in flame enough to make the door blistering hot. Victor had screamed out the window, smoke softly billowing under the door like a calming fog. He was so scared. Yakov was below yelling up at him. The apartments ablaze so bright it filled their part of town in its fiery lights over the calm of winter. The sharp taste of fear had his mind irrationally working on a plan but the height from the window was far too great to jump without an impending death from the skyscraper. It was surreal in a way. To stand in front of an opportunity of death and freedom by choice over consumption. And yet he couldn't bring himself to leap. The look on his mentor below-- the only family he ever had made him realize he was just as scared. He's never seen such an emotion on him before. Victors wide gaze had drifted across the people watching in horror as other neighboring people also screamed for help above and below him. Their cries seared into his mind but there was another selfish reason he wanted to live.

He wouldn't skate again if he jumped. And what was life without skating?

Chaos couldn't be rationalized. It was impossible to make a decision without instincts roaring forward to consume every single thought. Victor had made a mistake then. Running to the door, he opened it. The rush of oxygen from the window swept under his feet to greedily feed the fire. What had been chilled clean winter air turned to dragons breath blasting the room in blistering heat and a mighty explosion.

He had landed under the window in a broken heap. Fingers stretched up towards the sky he could just see over the lip of the windowsill. The cold teased a belief it would hold back the burns on his skin and the sharp stench of charred flesh and hair would be replaced with snow.

"I could save you," came a voice, the demon crouched on the window as if it was its closest friend. Victor had looked up through a hazy expression, feeling between worlds already. Unable to see clearly to put a face to the voice.

"Please," his broken word came softly and the other laughed boldly, leaping down by his side to wrap him up against his chest. His words brought a freezing breath of cold. So cold on his face that Victor sighed in relief to the blistering heat of flame and ash.

"You will die of course, but I can allow you to live for a short time. What is it you always desired?" the teenager parted drying lips, the smoke filled his lungs with every inhale making his mind hazy and chest tightly tremor in desperation for a clean breath. He shook his head. Not speaking with actual words but it seemed the demon already knew without them. His smirk frightening. As if this broken body was all he ever needed.

"You are a selfish, determined child. Always have been no matter what's around you...its why I am here at all. Waiting for this moment. You always wanted one thing because it's all you have ever known. I will give it to you-- but it comes with a price," his lips pressed into his burned skin. "You have seconds to decide before your soul departs. Before your life flashes before your eyes and you realize that it didn't have to end here. What do you say? Do we have a deal? Will you sell your soul to me--"

"Yes,"

Tears burned his eyes. Dying in that fire...choking for air, in feeling his skin burn. It had been impossible to think, to know really what he had done until he woke in the back of an ambulance without any serious wounds in place. Oxygen sweet on his tongue through a plastic mask. Dirt and soot smeared across his cheeks, any small burns wrapped up in soft bandages though their sting made him hyperaware that he was alive. People were whispering of the miracle of his life. Victor cracked his eyes to see Yakov speaking with the firefighter who had pulled him out. When he saw Victor's fluttered lashes he came running over. Wrapping his hand carefully into his and told him the most amazing thing.

"You are okay-- I'll take care of everything," Yakov said with equal parts anger and fright while his fingers tucked a strand of gray hair off Victor's face. Unknowing why it was there, the two didn't speak on it in that moment. The demons mark upon Victor. Hair now a matching striking silver instead of blonde. Yakov said later to keep it a secret as if he knew. But he didn't-- hadn't really known the real reason for its change within the fire.

"I will never forget your last breath," the corrupted spoke again barely an inch away bringing him back to the present. A horrifying laugh warped beneath his tone like a lost echo forever nipping at his heels. "Nor the one I gave back. Years I promised, enough to have it all in this profession. That is our deal... I want to enjoy it myself. I will uphold it. Have fun being the best in the world Victor Nikiforov..." Lips brushed to his own, faintly touched leaving frostbite he was sure would never leave his soul. He swallowed as the image of the demon disappeared from sight. Smoke dissipating to nothing leaving him alone with the music and the ice he had always loved more than life its self.

The ice.

Fists curled, shoulders slumping with a weight he couldn't find the strength to lift. What had he done? Coward. Already he had accomplished so much and now the merit of what he loved was at stake... not that anyone would know. Tears burned along his lashes and pattered loudly to the cold below.

"Vitya you are early!" Yakov's booming voice carried across it with a warmth of family he only ever felt for the other. The smell of coffee and maybe muffins arose in the space. He smiled. Lowering his eyes to the ice and shifted his weight into the opening piece of the dance he felt pull from his heart and soul. He wanted to tell this story so desperately... and yet he couldn't actually admit to it the truths. To explain what had happened would only hinder what was gifted to him-- a chance to prove his life had worth. To build a legacy. To reach the top and leave this world knowing it was possible to make it and have it all...

Victor's smile disappeared while he set to work on his choreography.  
Yakov watched from the sidelines with a deep, concerning frown.


	2. I'm Freezing and You Warmed Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note there are time jumps as this does roughly follow canon timeline.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He sat on the ice with his legs fanned out, long silver strands covered his blushed face. Chest heaving, Victor, swallowed the frustrations eating him alive like a rancid teaspoon of medicine. Pain etched like shattering ice up his shin feeling a bruise forming under his tights.

"Victor! Are you okay?" someone's voice came through the warped noise of the rink filled with scraps of blades and the random collision of jumps. A part of him wished he could cry now and have no one here blame him for it. Would they pat his shoulder? Wrap their arms around him into a hug to warm his damned soul. Victor can't remember the last time he felt anything remotely close to a simple touch less it is a handshake with the press-- except when the demon visited him, and their icy fingertips brushed his cheekbones and braided his hair like he was a doll. Did they not think they could? Was it his fault they kept a particular distance as if his stardom condoned that void.

He leaned back on his gloved hands smiling wildly with a light wave.

"All okay!" he lied, and his rink-mate smiled sweetly back believing it while they turned to practice some more.

How easy it was to glide through being a teenager. His life was the ice so to speak-- every cut of the blade into the frozen object a tick marking another passing second-- day-- year. The Press was here today watching him practice and all he could hear was the clatter of lens opening and closing to capture him fulfilling his debt. How easy it was to make excuses that his moods were to sell the moves. The press ate it up. Saying that he always surprised everyone-- it's what made him better than so many.

They didn't need to know how he was choking for air again. Every jump made it feel like a noose was going taunt and snap against his throat when he landed on the ice. They didn't know the silver strands spinning and lifting along their thin edges while he danced weren't because he loved the color, but because he was bound to a creature he couldn't speak about without sounding insane.

Victor wished often he had the stamina to remember faces, to not forget something told to him immediately after because his mind was so congested with sadness, he couldn't understand how the world around him continued on their directions. It wasn't as if he knew he was depressed. It was just a familiar feeling that engulfed him the second he awoke. A blanket wrapped around his shoulders a little too tight, his muscles aching not because of his workout and training-- but because they were begging him to rest eternally.

"You are going to cut it?" Yakov's arms were folded tightly against his chest as Victor stared in the mirror.

"I think I should," he responded quieter than he meant too. He should smile or offer something more for a show while he made this decision, but Yakov sometimes saw through it. He dared a peek through silver lashes to see the aggravated expression on his couch's face frown into permanent folds around his lips.

"Well-- I'll get someone to do it for you," came the surprised response. "Put the scissors down." He glanced at his hand shocked he held the object at all. His slim fingers released them with a clank on the table. Was he really going to do it? A little voice in his head laughed at him. 'As if cutting all your hair would release you.' He shivered and closed his eyes to realign his faces and put on some show of thanks he didn't entirely feel right now.

"Thank you!" he turned and winked, wanting to pat his coach's arm in passing but lowered his hand before it made any contact.

"Vitya, you are sure? It will take a while to grow back if you change your mind,"

Victor paused and tossed his hand on his hip. "I'm sure; I have a few things to work on now. Talk to you later!" He spoke with confidence all learned to associate to his work ethic. He believed it himself after a while.

Years always went by quickly when you were a ghost to a life lead for another. Fame had been his deepest desire but now that he had it-- it all felt different. He made a few friends who took him out for food and splurged on shopping in the big cities they traveled in. Adulthood was less turbulent than being a teenager-- maybe it was the balance of hormones or that he didn't have to worry about school anymore. Medals piled up. Trophies filled cases. Victor's name was one of great fame in Russia, and he sometimes had to wear disguises to hope for a quiet meal.

It was fun in a distracting way that gave him excuses to try new songs, new moves, and take his talent to even further extents by using inspiration from all areas of his life. The demon always watched and disturbing enough; Victor had developed a strange desire for them too. The closer his time came to being finished on his deal he realized how much this extra life meant to him and that he could die content.

That was also the day he saw Yuri--

He had been distracted when he realized the eyes upon his back, shooting off the script most people wanted from him. But that moment all he could think about was his face. How upset he was-- but then the banquet happened. It had been the first time someone had ever danced with him. Every finger wrapped with his own had been wildfire to his veins, the brush of his palm to his cheek as Yuri dipped him back had real happiness remove all the cold from his soul.

"You can not see this person," the demon warned him from his bed, lounged out as if he owned it. Small wisps of vapor tangled between their fingers making little flurries fall onto the comforter. Victor was on his laptop hunting down everything he could on Yuri Katsuki.

"Why not? It's not like I have much time left anyway and I have given you everything you wanted haven't I? Can't I just take this year off? My last one?" Victor hadn't meant to say all that, and his mouth was closed quickly with the palm of his hand while he watched Yuri skate to his song for the hundredth time.

The demon's black eyes narrowed into slits, flickering into a sapphire blue. "Take-- a year-- off, that wasn't part of our deal,"

Victor knew this could change into a dangerous situation if he didn't tread carefully. But he couldn't deny how his heart was hammering at the idea of seeing Yuri. Maybe convincing him to sleep by his side and staying up late talking about whatever. Desperation to simply be with this person ate at his heels like rabid dogs. He wanted to experience his new feeling so bad he'd be willing to change the deal if it granted it.

"Please," Victor rested his hand on his chin, watching the snowflakes fall and trying desperately not to beg the creature. "Let me see if I can get him to the Grand Prix. To see me in him-- would carry on this legacy you promised me in our original deal yes?"

In a blur of speed freezing fingers were swept up through his hair, pushing it out of his face to force his attention forward. The chair groaned from being tipped back, and Victor's chest hammered wildly in fear. Their lips were so close to his own and Victor always imagined what it was going to feel like having his soul torn from his mouth like a trapped breath in his lungs. Would it hurt? Would he die quickly? The demon never answered those questions, only asked him to skate for him again.

The touch alone was making him dizzy.

"Are we making a new deal then?"

Victor swallowed thickly, parting his lips to bring a shaky breath between them. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Why are you so enamored by this Yuri? You like him?"  
"No--"  
"Lies," the hiss made his teeth chatter.

Victor blushed against his will, and the demon's sharp smile made his insides curdle.

"I will grant this for you,"

"Really?" The excitement had him irrationally wanting to kiss the demon as if they deserved such sentiment. The fingers in his hair left slowly, the chair's front legs slamming back onto the floor as the creature disappeared into a mist of smoke. Victor smiled, fingers brushing how genuine it felt. He was going to see Yuri!

Traveling to Japan had appeared irrational to everyone, and Victor relished that of all things involving his deal-- he could do whatever he wanted right now. The freedom was addicting, and the very moment Yuri came into his vision for the first time, he couldn't help but smile and wink with his declarations because this was the man who swept him off his feet and warmed the dying soul trapped under his skin.

But it took a few days for the demon to laugh at him crying in bed, petting his hair while he snuggled Makkachin.

"You wasted your last year," he was teased, the cold from their touch freezing the tracks of dampness to his cheeks.

"Yuri isn't a waste; he could beat me on the ice if he believed in himself," Victor defended quickly. It was easy to speak about skating instead of the budding crush that was turning into a full blown want for Yuri to see him beyond that title.

"The only reason I am allowing this is because of the cruelty in your selfishness," the words were sharp frozen icicles into his back. Was he? "I hope he falls in love with you. I can't wait actually for me to take you away from him."

He spun around and sat up, the pounding of his heart so loud his hands were shaking. The demon was gone after whispering those treacherous words. It was cruel, wasn't it? To want him knowing he was supposed to die so soon.

Victor tried to focus only on coaching, even when he blurted about his Eros being a pork cutlet bowl. Supporting Yuri with his anxiety became a new experience that allowed him to touch Yuri a little more. To brush their hands, or cover his ears. It was natural after so much time to laugh over a meal shared or running out to shop. Even practicing a duet together after a hard day of practice had Victor falling deeper and deeper in love with Yuri.

Time once more slipped by as if it was a stream of water from a hose.

"You don't want to?" Yuri had asked him one night with his pointer fingers colliding together in front of his face. Victor noticed how his eyes were just a little downcast in nerves and his heart ached a little the longer they stood side by side waiting for the train. Victor leaned over and brushed a kiss to his cheek on impulse, feeling the heat of a blush warm him deeper than the sun.

He expected a shouted Victor in his embarrassment, but Victor spoiled in being the only one to surprise people. Yuri had his one hand wrapped around his scarf and pulled him down to kiss him properly, and his soul rang at the feeling, turning his head to deepen it. Savoring the lift of Yuri's toes to tilt into it and the shiver of arousal that licked down his spine.

"You didn't answer my question," Oh-- the cocky snark and widening grin from Yuri a few centimeters from his lips made Victor huff a laugh. Has he corrupted Yuri just a little bit to make him feel like mush when he smiled like this?

"Yes, I concede. Ballet would be good to keep up with anyway. I'll join you. As your coach I should agree to that alone," Yuri chuckled.

"You have only ever needed to be yourself. No need for titles like that," Yuri responded as the train pulled up.

It was those comments that served to make Victor realize how horrible he was. He selfishly took Yuri's hand, and they walked into the train to grab a handle. His eyes caught a familiar face in the crowds, gaze on Victor in a predatory way.

"Why is it so cold in here?" Yuri took a step closer to Victor after his comment, and it was like his soul was refreezing over. Yuri always freed him from this cage, but his deal remained regardless of the temporary freedom. His lips parted as panic settled into his lungs and had his fingers shaking. Yuri noticed immediately and glanced up, squinting around the wrong angle of his glasses until he tipped his head far enough back to see his face.

"Your lips are blue," Yuri commented in concern and surprised Victor with the weight of Yuri's arms draped around his core, slipping into the open flaps of his jacket and buried himself as close as possible to his chest. He could feel his warm breath hitting his collarbone making a humid cloud seep under his sweater.

The demon stared him down as people walked in front of them and the train lurched to a stop in its many stops. Victor felt like his heart was slowing down the longer those black eyes bored into him. A reminder that it had been weeks since he saw them, congested and smothered in everything Yuri since he had kissed him on the ice. Had they done it on purpose? To let him feel safe for the first time in his life and rip the veil back to his frightening coming reality.

"Come on--" Yuri was pulling on his jacket sleeve, and Victor finally tore his gaze away, steps heavy and his mind reeling at his stupidity.

"You okay?"

Yuri's words were echoes, but he managed a teasing smile nudging his nose playfully into Yuri's hair line.

"Absolutely, let's go..."


End file.
